Friday, September 4

Lamenting Days of Yore


Welcome to a Secret Subject Swap organized by Baking In A Tornado. This week I joined 15 other brave bloggers who picked a secret subject for someone else and were assigned a secret subject to interpret in their own style. Today we are all simultaneously divulging our topics and submitting our posts. 

Here are links to all the writers now featuring Secret Subject Swap posts.  Sit back, grab a cup, and check them all out.

My subject is: You have a choice of a perfect vacation. Where do you go and who do you take with you? It was submitted by The Diary of an Alzheimer’s Caregiver. Here goes:  


via Virtual Tourist


I can sense it in my bone,
Feel its pull on the wind-
Can hear it echo within my breast-
Sending chill across my skin.

An isle worlds away is calling
Brazen realm of cliff and stone
A land of blooming thistle
I’ve glimpsed in aging tome."
-Luke Douglas



 Green. Jade. Emerald. Forest.

The color means trees. The smell of pine needles. Rolling hills of wet grass after rain. I've always been attracted to it. It means life and brightness. Even if there is no sun, and the clouds dim the day, I will find the green. It is always vibrant.

To me it also means Scotland. I instinctively picture endless fields, farmers and their sheep herding the countryside and tall trees as far as the eye can see. I grew up next to cornfields. That is a different kind of countryside. It always felt barren and dry.

I daydream about 16th century Scottish life. I'm not sure if that is what I would find now. I would take my husband, of 10 years, and cross the Atlantic Ocean. (He might have one arm left by the time we land. Airplanes make my stomach roll.) We would plant our feet on the foreign soil and walk off the beaten path. It is a place I wouldn't mind getting lost in for awhile.

We could rent a small cottage in an out-of-the-way town. Just us. No children. No expectations. Like the honeymoon we never had. We would wake up to chilly mornings with coffee and dew speckled landscapes. Then talk a walk down cobble stoned roads and find a market for breakfast. Then meet the people.

I am in love with accents. Not languages but the way people talk. French is supposed to be the language of love. I prefer the big, burly gents.Words so thick you have to watch the person's mouth to track what they are saying. They seem exotic. I would roll my tongue around words like Mackinnon, Beinn na Caillich, Argyle and Carnasserie. My ears would be filled with laughter because alcohol runs freely through Scottish veins.

Of course, we would visit the tourist stops. All the castles. Stonehenge. The Coast. Tea rooms. All the Pubs. The Lock. The Highlands. The Isle of Man. A free vacation is so open ended. We might never leave. 

Except for the kids. I almost forgot about them.









-J
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